


Curiosity Killed The Claude

by ProneToRelapse



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claude gets pegged pass it on, F/M, Humor, Pegging, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProneToRelapse/pseuds/ProneToRelapse
Summary: Byleth finds an intriguing book in Almyra’s library. Claude benefits greatly from her curiosity.AKA: Claude Von Riegan found dead in Almyra.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 266





	Curiosity Killed The Claude

**Author's Note:**

> This was always gonna happen, I’m gonna be honest. Gotta wreck that man, it’s about equality, you know?
> 
> This doesn’t _quite _fit in to my main series, it’s sort of timeline adjacent, but everything about Almyra is the same as that series, so if you want more exposition and world building, head over there for more Almyran shenanigans.__
> 
> _  
> _This may or may not be based on a store in the next city over to my town... It is. It really is. Support independent adult boutiques, they’re doing the world a service.__  
> 

Out of the two of them, Claude has always been the bookish one. Curious by nature, Byleth can remember, rather fondly, no less than six separate occasions she’d found him asleep at one of the desks in the library, dead to the world and dribbling on texts older than his lineage. But even though she’s always prized real-world experience over the antiquated scribblings of the long-dead, Byleth would have to be heartless not to find the Library of Almyra a treasure trove of both knowledge and beauty. 

Claude had brought her to it as soon as he could, pulling her into the grand building carved from very foundations of the red stone of the mountainside it was built on. Seamlessly the ceiling curves up into an intricate glass dome, sparkling in the sunlight through planes of multicoloured glass and throwing a prism of shadows onto the marble floors. Walls and walls of books spread out in every direction and Byleth is speechless at the beauty of it.

“There’s so much knowledge here,” Claude had told her, twirling her round as though they were spinning across a gilded ballroom floor. “You could read for decades and not even come  _ close  _ to scratching the surface.”

And Byleth tries. Oh, does she try, entranced by the wealth of fact and fiction surrounding her, bewitched by tomes she never would have found on the Monastery’s carefully curated shelves. There are texts on ancient battle strategies, stories of wars fought before Fódlan was founded, tales and myths from across the sea, daring and enchanting, and Byleth suddenly understands why some people prize books over real life. 

But it’s not until she strays into a dark corner of the library that she understands the  _ real _ appeal of reading. 

While Claude flits off to do Goddess knows what in a dusty corner somewhere out of sight, Byleth peruses the shelves full of books on herbal remedies and botany, moves across into the territory of tomes on terraforming, and then loses herself to scrolls on seafaring. She finds the sea deeply fascinating, and she eagerly awaits the days when their duties take them to Sreng. She plucks a book from the shelves and leafs through the pages decorated with beautiful maps, wandering absently as she reads, looking up at the last moment to sidestep a marble pillar and realising she doesn’t actually know what section of the library she’s gotten lost in. She’s rather confident that she’ll be able to find her way back to the center of the library if she follows the signs on the shelves and retraces her steps, but this part of the library is lit only by a single wall sconce, and all the books in these shadowed shelves are covered with fine layers of dust. 

She tucks her current book into one of the shelves to come back to later and runs her fingers over title-less spines, leaving trails in the dust as she goes. There’s something intriguing about a secluded section of such a massive library and she knows that Claude is rubbing off on her when she curiously slips a heavy book from one of the higher shelves, blowing the dust from its cover; the only slash of red in a wall of black and brown. 

The title is in a script she doesn’t recognise, which is why she opens the cover, though it may be a fruitless endeavour if the contents are in the same foreign tongue. The pages are yellowed with age but the flowing script is beautiful, ink so black it creeps like slivers of a night sky across the page. Curious, Byleth turns the titular page again and comes across words in a language she  _ does  _ recognise. 

Byleth’s eyes widen as she reads. Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Oh, this is a—

“By?” Clayde’s voice sounds from a few shelves away, distant but loud enough and sudden enough that Byleth actually jumps a foot in the air as she startles. “Where’ve you gotten to?”

Byleth hesitates for a split second. She should put the book back. She really should. Stuff it back on the shelf and forget she ever found it. 

But…

When in Almyra…

She snatches up the other book and obscures the other’s possibly incriminating title beneath it as she hurried away from the frankly carnal section of the library she’d managed to stumble into, rounding the corner to where Claude is waiting with a smile on his face. 

“There you are! Find anything you like?”

“I think so,” Byleth says, fighting to keep her expression neutral. A few years ago it would’ve been easy, but hiding anything from Claude now is almost impossible. “May I borrow these two?”

Claude beams are her. “You can have whatever you want.”

She rolls her eyes at him but can’t fight the smile that draws out of her, helplessly charmed as she always is by everything that he is. He guides her through the library with a gentle hand at the small of her back and Byleth puts the illicit book out of her mind. 

For now. 

  
  


—

  
  


Damn Claude for infecting her with his relentless curiosity. 

While he sleeps soundly beside her, Byleth carefully extricates herself from his sleep-slackened embrace, deftly slipping a pillow into the loose circle of his arms which he promptly nuzzles into in a way that makes her heart soft. But she has a goal right now and as much as she’d like to curl back up in his embrace, she pulls on the sheer nightgown that is all she can bear to wear during the balmy Almyran nights and pads over to the desk, lighting a single candle and fetching the scarlet-covered book from her bag. It burns in her hands as she sets it on the desk and stares at it for a long moment before she forces herself to open it, holding her breath as though the book itself will make a deafening sound to alert everyone to what she’s doing.

The language inside is old and difficult to read, but she manages it just about, though it’s definitely a struggle. But even with centuries separating her from the writer, the tone is unmistakable. 

She makes it through two pages before she has to pause, pulse skipping and face heating to an almost unbearable temperature. Behind her Claude mumbles sleepily and she tenses until he starts to snore softly again and she can turn the next page and—

Oh, Goddess above. 

The book has  _ pictures _ . Lovingly rendered ink sketches of people…  _ together.  _ Intimately. Explicitly. With labels and footnotes like they’re honest to Goddess informational _ diagrams.  _ Byleth clenches her jaw against the irresponsible, inappropriate giggle that threatens to slip out, covering her face as she tries to compose herself before she wakes Claude up and gets caught red-handed reading  _ actual  _ pornography. 

Except it’s not really pornography. It’s too… detailed and informative to be pornography. It’s more like an instruction manual, a surprisingly  _ adventurous _ manual based on the rest of the images Byleth quickly flicks through. Honestly, what would Seteth think if he ever saw it? The image is so amusing that Byleth snorts loudly, then claps a hand over her mouth as Claude stirs. A beat passes and then he settles once more and Byleth is saved from discovery by sheer luck. 

A few more pages in and Byleth is as scarlet as the book’s cover. Another couple and her eyes are saucer-wide, eyebrows almost to her hairline. And then, halfway through, Byleth furtively turns another yellowed page and she freezes as all the breath is punched from her lungs. 

The image is tasteful, at least, but still much more explicit than any of the other images. The sketch spans two pages and depicts a man, side-on view, braced on his forearms and his knees in much the same way Byleth herself has been when Claude takes her from behind. But in the place where Claude would have been in this situation, is a woman, bare-breasted with some sort of harness wrapped around full, curvaceous hips. Connected to it somehow is a long, narrow object, halfway buried  _ inside  _ the man, similar enough in shape to a phallus that Byleth understands exactly what is happening before she even reads the footnote. 

When her wide eyes finally flick down to the small text at the bottom of the page, heat drops in a sudden dizzying wave down her spine to pool low in her abdomen and she very viscerally and unequivocally realises that  _ this  _ is something that she wants. She wants it  _ badly.  _

She can picture it. Claude… helpless to pleasure on his knees before her, spine arching as she fills him in that same intoxicating way he fills her… The thought is maddening and enticing and terrifying all at once and she  _ craves  _ it with everything she is. 

Slowly, she turns the page and reads until the sun creeps into the sky. 

  
  


—

  
  


The main obstacle is how in the world Byleth is meant to obtain anything close to the harness she’d seen in the picture. There isn’t a specific name for it, not that she’d been able to glean from the book after she’d scoured it from cover to cover and she daren’t risk taking it back from the library after she’d gone to such surreptitious lengths to return it while Claude was preoccupied with his father. She could try making it, but without a clear picture of the whole…  _ product,  _ she doesn’t much fancy her chances of executing it well or safely enough to use. 

Unfortunately she also doesn’t really have anyone in Almyra she can safely ask about such things. The only people she knows well enough here are Claude’s parents, and the thought of even coming  _ close  _ to that topic of conversation makes her want to leap from the mountain. 

God, if only Hilda were here. She’d know exactly what to do. As soon as Byleth got over the mortification of actually asking her for her help, anyway. 

So for a few days, Byleth tries exceptionally hard not to think about any of it. She dines with Claude’s parents and takes tea in the palace grounds, flies across verdant forests astride Reus while Claude circles around them on Najima and she loves every second of it. But at night when she’s alone with her thoughts, it’s  _ all she can think about.  _

And so, in the absence of literally any other route available, Byleth crafts a scheme Claude himself would be proud of, and lies directly to her future mother-in-law’s face. 

Or tries to. 

“Tiana,” Byleth says slowly one rare afternoon that the men are not around to break fast with them. If she understands correctly, they’re doing something down at the barracks that might involve wagers and fistfights with the Royal Guard, and any other time she would have been ecstatic to join them, but she has another battle of her own to fight right now, and it starts with lying through her teeth to Tiana’s warm, affectionate face. 

“Would you… Happen to know where… That is, is there anywhere in Almyra that does… Uhh…” Byleth gulps down tea almost as hot as her cheeks. “I’m looking to have something… made…?” 

Goddess, help her. Put her in the path of an army and she’ll stand immovable as a mountain. Put her in front of her fiancé’s mother and get her to try to ask about  _ intimate things  _ and she quivers like grass in a gale. 

Tiana, thank the heavens, catches on  _ immediately,  _ which is actually rather frightening. “I know that look,” she says, raising one perfect eyebrow. “Which book was it?”

Byleth nearly spits her tea out. “How in the hell do you know that?!”

Tiana laughs, high and clear like the tinkling of glass. “You remind me so much of myself when I first came to Almyra. And who do you think it was that suggested Claude show you the library? I spent  _ many _ days in the… shall we say, more  _ salacious _ sections of that building. I was younger than you when I first came here and I was hungry for anything that wasn’t the abysmal forced propriety fed to the Fódlan people by the Church. I whiled away the hours in there, only I wasn’t nearly as shy as you about it when it came to asking for what I wanted.”

Byleth blinks. That’s probably the first time in her life anyone has ever called her  _ shy.  _ “It was… the red one.”

Tiana smiles knowingly. “Ah.  _ The Secrets and Sins Of Flesh Made Manifest.” _

“That’s an awful title,” Byleth blurts, aghast. “I think I preferred it when I didn’t know what it was.”

Tiana hums in agreement. “All those books have terrible titles. But  _ don’t judge a book by its cover _ and all that. No, the  _ real _ treasure is what’s hidden inside. I won’t press, you look as though your face may catch fire at any moment, but I think I know of just the place where you’ll find exactly what you’re looking for.”

Byleth is, in equal parts, terrified and intrigued. 

  
  


—

  
  


The market stalls of Almyra’s streets are a sight to behold and there will be time to describe them in all their splendor at a later date. For now, Tiana leads Byleth down a narrow alleyway, tugging her headscarf more securely around her face as she beckons Byleth to follow her. Similarly covered by her own scarf, shielded thusly to avoid curious eyes that may recognise them as members of the royal family, Byleth hurries after her, down the winding alley towards a nondescript wooden doorway that bears no sign or marker. Tiana holds a finger to her lips and knocks on the door with her other hand and when the door opens, a hand gestures for them to enter at once. 

Inside is a room lit by paper lanterns flickering with candleflame, throwing deep shadows across walls lines with fabric and lace, satin and silk, and the air is thick with smoke tinged with the taste of cinnamon and myrrh that bleeds in clouds from an ornate incense burner hanging from the ceiling. The walls are decked with tapestries and sheer curtains in deep scarlets and purples trimmed with gold and it’s with a start that Byleth realises the images on the tapestries are startling similar to the sketches in the book from the library. 

“Byleth,” Tiana says, gesturing to the woman who had beckoned them inside. “This is Simone. Finest purveyor of marital aids this side of Fódlan’s throat.”

“A pleasure,” Simone says, inclining her head. She’s paler than Byleth has come to expect of Almyran natives, sandy blonde hair braided intricately and draped over one shoulder, decorated with pearls and clasps inlaid with silver. Her Fódlan is perfect, heavily-accented, and her voice is low and pleasantly gravelly. “I haven’t seen you in my shop for an age, Ti. I’d almost thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“Never,” Tiana says, smiling. “But I’m here as moral support for my dear daughter-in-law. She’s new to this world and has some questions.”

Simone turns her ice-blue gaze onto Byleth who resists the urge to fidget under her scrutiny. “Is that so?” Simone asks, folding her arms. “Seems like young Claude’s finally met his match. And what is it you want to know? If I can’t answer your questions, then I guarantee there’s no one in Almyra who can.”

Byleth takes a deep breath and pointedly ignores Tiana as she stiltedly explains what she’d seen in the book, taking care not to go into _too_ much detail for Tiana’s sake. But the King-mother is paying them no attention, suddenly very interested in some of the sheer clothing lining the walls. Byleth ignores _that_ for her own sanity. 

When she’s finished explaining, Simone’s eyes are bright with amusement and clear with understanding. “I know exactly what you want,” she says, snapping her fingers. “My only follow up question is, do you have a preference over wood or glass?”

Byleth states at her. “There’s more than one option?”

“Of course!” Simone exclaims like it’s obvious. “Wood is a fine enough material but I prefer glass myself. Glass can be heated or cooled and it has a… smoother finish, so to speak. Easier on the entry, if you catch my drift.”

Byleth hesitates. “Glass,” she finally manages in a very faint voice. 

“Wonderful. Back in a moment.” Simone disappears through a black curtain in a wisp of sandalwood and the clink of metal jewellery. When she reappears, her arms are full of things that make all the blood drain from Byleth’s face. 

“The harness itself is adjustable,” Simone says, putting it on the table functioning as a sort of trader’s counter. “Padded so the leather doesn't chafe your skin. I selected a smaller size to begin with because, let’s face it, you've never done this before and neither has your partner, I can see it in your eyes. Some oil to ease the way. I trust you understand why that’s necessary?”

Byleth nods mutely. The book had been  _ very  _ clear about that. 

“Good. Clean the phallus thoroughly after each use. Warm, soapy water will do. Always err on the side of too much oil and if you think you’ve prepared them enough, you haven’t. Always take care, tearing hurts and can put a real damper on the prospect of a repeat performance.”

She shows Byleth how to fasten the harness, where it needs to sit on her body to cause the least amount of discomfort. She gives her tips, much to Byleth’s horror, on the best practices for preparation. It all seems like common sense, but there are definitely things that Byleth didn’t know and as much as she’s embarrassed, she listens intently because Simone really does know what she’s talking about. 

When she and Tiana finally leave, purses considerably lighter and both with bags full of things Byleth will  _ never  _ discuss with her, the embarrassment begins to ebb and in its place curls the first stirrings of intoxicating, fluttering excitement. 

  
  


—

  
  


Byleth considers her options. 

She can either strap in and give Claude the shock of his life when he returns to their chambers, or she can broach the topic with him gently, gauge his reaction, and go from there. 

Both options have their drawbacks, so Byleth takes yet another leaf from Claude’s book, and chooses subterfuge instead of transparency. 

She returns to the library after stowing away her illicit purchases where he won’t find them, retrieves the book that started it all, and brings it back to their rooms, clutching it tightly to her chest so that the title is hidden to anyone curious enough to look. Once back in the safety of their chambers, Byleth leaves the book out on their bed in plain sight, starkly unmissable against the golden silk of the sheets, and retrieves the other additional purchase from the bag, slipping into the washroom to prepare and fortify herself. 

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to wait long. 

She hears the door click shut and Claude’s footsteps as he enters the room, a soft, tired sigh, the rustle of fabric as he sheds his sash and overcoat, and the clink of his brooch on the table as he removes his cloak. 

“Byleth?” He calls, knocking on the washroom door. 

“Just a moment!” Byleth calls back, relieved when her voice comes out even and steady. “I’m just washing up, I won’t be a minute. Your mother dragged me all over Almyra today.”

“That sounds like her. I hope she didn’t show you the markets properly before I got the chance.”

“No, don’t worry. Today we had more of a particular goal in mind.”

“Oh? Sounds intriguing.”

“Mm, I’ll tell you about it in a moment, I’m almost done.”

In truth, Byleth is probably as ready as she’ll ever be, but this next moment is crucial to her plan. She waits, ear pressed to the door between them, and listens as Claude moves to the bed, hears the creak of the bed frame as he settles into it. 

“Oh, you went back to the library,” he comments idly and Byleth holds her breath as Claude suddenly falls silent. “ _ ‘The Secret and Sins of…’ _ Byleth…?” Claude’s voice has inched up an entire two octaves and he's fighting to sound composed. “What’s this?”

It’s now or never. Byleth draws herself up to her full height and steels herself as though for battle, slowly pushing the door open and stepping into the bedroom. 

“It caught my eye,” she says, propping a hand in her hip as she stands in the doorway, clad from shoulder to thigh in deep emerald satin that drapes down her bare legs in an asymmetric sash threaded with silver and coils up round her throat in a halterneck that flatters the full curve of her breasts with a diamond cut out across her cleavage. Claude is sat on the bed, book halfway to slipping out of limp fingers as he stares at her, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. 

Byleth resists the urge to preen, affecting nonchalance as she crosses the room, skirt flaring alluringly as she moves. “I didn’t know what the title said. But when I found out I was… curious.”

“ _ Byleth, _ ” Claude chokes, book sipping fully from his fingers and hitting the carpeted floor with a dull thud. That takes care of that, at least, and Byleth hitches up the skirt as she slides gracefully into his lap, straddling his thighs and looping her arms round his neck. His eyes flick up to her face, then down to that enticing window on her chest. His cheeks bloom scarlet and he struggles to raise his eyes back up to her face. “Um.”

Byleth shushes him gently, pushing a hand into his hair and curling her fingers into the tousled curls, tugging gently to tilt his head back. A low, damning whine escapes Claude’s throat and the flush spreads right down to his chest, disappearing under the collar of his throat. 

“It gave me an idea,” Byleth says, leaning down to ghost a faint breath across the skin of Claude’s scarlet throat. He shivers. “And I’d be so grateful if you’d indulge me.”

“Anything,” Claude blurts at once, voice unsteady but full of conviction. “Everything.”

Byleth  _ purrs _ . “Good boy,” she murmurs and the whine that follows is loud and halfway to ruined already. She leans back, arching her spine gracefully as she lifts the book off of the floor. Claude shifts underneath her as she flicks through the pages as though she’s searching for what she wants, as though she doesn’t know the exact page she’s looking for. When she finds it, she turns the page, showing him without words  _ exactly  _ what it is she wants. Claude’s eyes flick across the double page spread, brow pinching in an unconscious frown before his mouth falls open and his eyes blow wider than Byleth has ever seen them. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” he breathes, pupils dilating rapidly. “ _ Fuck _ .”

Byleth closes the book, letting it fall back to the floor. “What do you think?”

“I think…” Claude trails off, swallows convulsively, tries again. “I think I’m about to pass out from blood loss, actually.”

Byleth laughs, delighted. “I’m  _ so _ pleased you’re amenable. After all the trouble I went to, I would’ve been  _ very _ disappointed if you’d declined.”

“Not an option,” Claude says hoarsely. “Very amenable. Would like very much that. Would— Yes.  _ Yes.  _ Yeah.”

Byleth shoves his shoulders, pushing him back down onto the bed with a feral grin. Claude stares up at her like she’s something to be worshipped and it makes her feel powerful,  _ desired _ , in a way that bolsters her actions. She leans down to kiss his throat, feels the way his pulse thrills against her lips, and then slips away from him, standing and crossing the room to fetch what she needs, ignoring Claude’s dissatisfied whine from the bed. 

“Patience,” she chides him, turning round with both the harness and a glass vial in her hands. “Good things come to those who wait, and those who wait… get to come.”

Claude moans, covering his face with his hands. “I feel like I’m being tortured,” he laments, muffled by his palms. “What kind of hell is this? Why do I love it so much? Why were you made  _ specifically  _ to torment me?”

Byleth laughs softly and crosses back over to the bed, dropping the harness onto the sheets and tucking one leg beneath her as she sits down. “Not torment,” she says lightly, running her fingers down his chest. Claude peeks at her through his fingers and she corrects herself. “Okay, a  _ little  _ torment. But I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

“That I believe,” he says, finally moving his hands away from his face and sitting up. Gingerly he reaches for the phallus, testing the weight of it in his hands. “Glass?” He questions to which Byleth nods. He regards it with a wary expression and lowers it back onto the bed. “Okay. I trust you.”

He follows her lead implicitly, lets her set the pace as she slowly strips him of the rest of his clothes, humming softly as she kisses each inch of skin as it’s bared to her. He kneels up as she strokes her hands down the warm skin of his back, then gasps as she presses between his shoulder blades, guiding him to bend until he’s on all fours, braced by his forearms on the bed while she kneels behind him. He shivers as she kisses a trail down his spine, coaxing him to relax with lips and tongue and fingertips, until he’s moaning softly into the sheets and she feels brave enough to reach for the glass vial. 

Claude glances back at her when she pops the cork out, but from where she’s sat he can’t quite see her and that makes him tense up again. Byleth takes the time to pet at him until his tension eases again, and then she coats her fingers liberally with oil, and presses the tip of her forefinger against his tailbone. 

“Trust me?” She asks. 

“Always,” he vows, and Byleth slowly draws her finger down, down, down… Until she brushes over a part of him she has yet to acquaint herself with, and the sound Claude makes can be called nothing but  _ needy.  _

“That’s—“ He sucks a sharp breath. “New.”

Byleth hums, slowly circling her finger. Claude shudders and she watches it ripple all the way down his spine. She keeps doing that, just stroking slowly and softly outside, until Claude’s breaths are coming in uneven bursts and then, with a great deal of care, she slips the first finger inside. 

Despite his best efforts, Claude tenses up immediately. She hasn’t hurt him, she knows his reactions well enough by now to know the sound he makes isn't one of pain, but still she halts her movements, pressed halfway into him, until he starts to breathe again and gives a quick nod of his head that signals she can continue. 

“Didn’t expect tha- _ haaaaat! _ ” Claude’s soft statement pitches up into a yelp as Byleth pushes the rest of the way in and his thighs tremble like he isn’t sure if he wants to push back or pull away. She lets him adjust, stroking his back with her free hand with slow, soothing movements, marvelling at how soft and hot he feels around her finger. 

“I…” Claude coughs, twitching around her. “I think I want… More?” His uncertainty turns it into a question, but his willingness to keep going is heartening, so Byleth slowly withdraws her finger, dragging another ragged gasp out of Claude’s throat, and presses another finger against him, twisting the first gently as she works him open. 

“Don’t worry,” Byleth tells him as she carefully eases in a second finger. “This is when it starts to get good.”

Claude whines as she presses deeper, hands fisting in the sheets. “Y-yeah? ‘Cause I’m feeling a little—  _ haaaaa…  _ Invaded right now.”

“Yeah,” Byleth assures him. “Any second now.” If the book is right, and she hopes it is, if she curls her fingers  _ here,  _ she should be able to—

“ _ Oh!”  _ Claude shouts, really shouts, the sound punched out of him as his back bows and his thighs shiver. “What— What was— What—“

“The book didn’t say,” Byleth says, fighting to keep her voice level and unaffected. “It just said it would feel good.”

“Do… Do it again? Please?”

How can Byleth refuse him? She can’t and she doesn’t want to, curling her fingers again, rubbing fingertips against that soft spot inside that sends Claude writhing with a breathless moan. His back arches so prettily, back muscles twitching underneath his skin as he eagerly, and unmistakably, pushes back against her fingers. 

“Feels good,” he chokes out, head bowed. “Def— Definitely want more.  _ Please. _ ”

Byleth is eager to give it to him, but Simone’s words of caution keep her movements slow and steady. Besides, it’s all the more rewarding to watch Claude come slowly undone, piece by piece, until she’s three fingers deep and he’s moaning nonsensically into the bedsheets, hard and desperate for everything Byleth gives him. 

When she finally pulls away. Claude makes a wounded sound, but doesn’t have the strength in his arms to push himself up and look round at her. Good thing, too, because there’s no elegant way to strap herself into the harness, and she ends up with her skirt sticking half out of one of the leg straps, until she loses patience with the whole ensemble and yanks it off. When she kneels back behind Claude, tops of her thighs nudging against the backs of his legs, he immediately spreads his legs wider for her, arching his back so that he is, for want of a better word,  _ presenting  _ for her. 

She truly adores this man. 

“I’m going to do it now,” she murmurs, hands moving to his narrow waist. “If at any point you need me to stop—“

“I’ll tell you,” Claude rushes out, nodding frantically. “Promise. Just—  _ Please. _ ”

Byleth nudges the tip of the phallus against where he is slick and open for her. He flinches a little at the cold but then pushes back immediately to show her that he’s okay, that he’s ready. Following his cue, Byleth lines up carefully and, inch by torturous inch, presses inside. 

“ _ Shit, _ ” Claude gasps, throwing his head back. “I-It just. Keeps going, h-huh?” Byleth hums and guides her hips further forward, easing in little by little, until her pelvis is flush with the curve of Claude’s backside, and he’s panting out soft little moans that light her nerves on fire. 

“I c-can feel it,” Claude gasps, lowering his cheek back down to the bed. “I can f-feel it in my  _ stomach. _ ” He trails off with a ragged moan and the words send something hot coiling low in Byleth’s own belly. She wonders how similar the sensations are, if Claude is being driven slowly mad by the heavy drag and burn against his insides and the heady clench of fullness in his abdomen that promises a powerful kind of pleasure unmatched by anything else. 

If he is, Byleth wants to give him  _ everything _ . 

She starts off with a slow roll of her hips, not thrusting so much as just grinding into him, something she personally enjoys when their positions are reversed, and by the gasping moan Claude gives, she’s doing something incredibly right. She does it again, pulling out an inch before pushing back in, and Claude drags one of the pillows towards him, burying his face in it. 

So Byleth pulls out further, watching as his body clutches at the glass, listening to the wrecked gasps of her fiancé as he tries to push back in a clumsy attempt to chase pleasure. Byleth holds his hips tightly, keeps him still, and then pushes back in, a little more forcefully than before, and Claude  _ sobs.  _

“Please, By, please,  _ please! _ ” 

Byleth shifts her legs wider and repeats the thrust, tilting her hips up to try and press against where she knows Claude wants her. The first few thrusts are unsuccessful, though Claude is still moaning loudly as she moves inside him. But then she hits it, finally brushes against that elusive spot, and Claude yells, jerking forward and biting down on the pillow to muffle the sound. 

She keeps moving like that, pushing in, pressing up, using her hands on his waist to start pulling him back onto the phallus in a rhythm that has him panting out strangled moans of pleasure. He rocks back almost unconsciously, shuddering with each press into his body, and he claws at the sheets like a wild animal, all growls and purrs and instinct. And when Byleth’s composure slips and she starts to thrust into him with force, Claude arches his back and  _ wails,  _ shouting her name amidst the garbled pleas and desperate moans that she’s wrenching from deep in his chest. She’s panting from the exertion, sweat slicking hair to the back of her neck, but the cramping in her legs is so worth it for the way Claude is responding so vocally to her efforts. 

“ _ Byleth!” _ He moans, desperate and drawn out, voice ragged and half muffled by the pillow he’s pressing his face into. “ _ Please _ , I can’t— I need—  _ Please!” _

Mercifully, Byleth indulges him, leaning forward so her chest is pressed to his back and she can reach a hand round his hips to take him in hand. From this position she can only grind into him, but that seems to be exactly what Claude wants because every slow grind of her hips punches another breathless moan from his lungs, interrupted only by the sharp hiss he utters when she wraps a hand around him. It doesn’t take much, a few strokes and then he’s lost, crying out his release as his back arches and his legs shake so violently the bed shudders beneath them. When the trembling stops, Byleth carefully withdraws and Claude whines, ruined, collapsing onto his side as he fights to catch his breath. 

“Awww, look at you,” Byleth coos, rubbing a hand over his side. “You’re all flushed.”

“Don’t look at me,” he mumbles, throwing an arm clumsily over his face. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“You look lovely,” Byleth says, unclipping the harness. “Feel good?”

“Hhhnnnnyeah.” He lifts his arm slightly, peering out at her from under it. “I’m wary though. You’ve got too much power over me already and with  _ that _ you’re gonna be unstoppable.”

Byleth winks at him, getting off the bed to take everything into the washroom. “Think you can stand up long enough to join me in the bath?”

Claude groans, managing to push himself half upright. “That sounds so good, but it’s a very real possibility that you’ll have to carry me.”

“Can do,” Byleth says, bringing two robes out from the washroom. “It’s the least I can do after making such a mess of you.”

“The  _ very _ least,” Claude agrees, taking one of the robes. “But, after that performance, I’m very eager to return the favour.”

“Yeah?” Byleth leans down to kiss him softly. “I’m eager to let you.”

“Excellent,” Claude says and yanks her down onto the bed. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Tiana is the real MVP.


End file.
